


In Which Agent M has a Crush on Agent O (And it is Resolved Via Circumstances)

by Skyuni123



Series: men in black: international ficlets [2]
Category: Men in Black (Movies)
Genre: F/F, Kindness, Praise Kink, Safe Sane and Consensual, Sex Pollen, Smut, i have a crush on emma thompson thus this, sue me, the ultimate fear of being known
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 04:36:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19369837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyuni123/pseuds/Skyuni123
Summary: a sex pollen fic(featuring, surprisingly enough, consent!)





	In Which Agent M has a Crush on Agent O (And it is Resolved Via Circumstances)

The thing is-

 

The thing  _ is _ , attraction to power is… reasonable. At least, that’s what Molly tries to tell herself. She had a crush on Michelle Obama - perfectly reasonable, considering the circumstances - to three of her college tutors, and to the editor of her favourite alien magazine.

 

So yes, her crush on Oh is… reasonable. 

 

However, it’s never to be. 

 

Oh is several years older than her, and her  _ boss,  _ and she’d never flout the rules of MIB just to get closer to her. Thus, her crush is relegated to a back of the mind-type thing, and it’s not ever really a problem.

 

Absolutely not. 

 

She tells Aitch about it, and he does nothing at all to help except laugh at her. “Until O got the job, I had slept with every single one of the office heads. Every. Single. One. Worldwide. There’s thirty-five of them.” He seems fairly proud of it, too. 

 

But it’s just a crush.

 

And it’s  _ fine. _

 

But the thing is,

 

It’s not. 

  
  


Oh is rather pleased with her work, it seems. Em successfully manages to save several agency cock-ups, has a knack for large guns, and works her way up the ranks before the year is out. 

 

Oh isn’t a woman who just gives out compliments, but she seems more than pleased to be able to give them to Em.

 

“Admirable judgment.” Oh says, in the aftermath of a night’s worth of excitement. “Good job, Agent M.” 

 

“Thank you.” Em says, though she’s fizzing inside at the kindness. 

 

She calmly cleans green alien blood off her gun, signs out for the night, goes home, and  _ definitely  _ doesn’t masturbate herself to cramp to the thought of Oh telling her, “ _ Good girl,”  _ in other, more interesting scenarios. 

 

(Though she doubts that Oh would ever say, “Good girl,” to someone. Oh seems the type to layer her kink praise in feminist buzzwords, and would never call a fully-grown woman a  _ girl _ .)

 

(Em would not complain about either option, if given the choice.)

  
  


MIB has a policy for new human agents. 

 

Aitch had explained it to her in the simplest of terms, “every alien substance reacts to us. We’re really breakable. Sometimes alien gases make us want to bone,” and then he’d pointed at the line in the health and safety form where it said ‘Nominated Sexual Partner in the Event of a Class X Infection’. 

 

“You can put me down, if you like.” He’d said, and grinned like he wasn’t aware that he was stunning and most people in the agency had a thing for him. “I think I was on twenty-two forms last time I checked? I’m a very generous lover.”

 

Em had shoved him and said, “Absolutely not.” 

 

Pawny had just jabbed him in the nipple with his sword until he’d gotten the point. 

 

“It’s all consensual and above-board.” Aitch had said, wounded, as he dabbed at his bleeding chest. “If the person you nominate doesn’t want to do it then they get in one of the therapy people from the Biology department. It’s all very secret and no-one ever talks. Consent is the most important thing.”

 

The whole thing hadn’t made a lot of sense to her, at the time, but Aitch had assured her that, “Class X infections  _ barely  _ ever happen. You could put down the Director, and you’d never actually end up going through with it.” 

 

The thing is…

 

Sometimes humans are ruled by their emotional attachments to other people. Em hadn’t been immune to that.

 

She’d hidden her form from Aitch and written down, in letters that were only a slightly bit shaky, “Agent O.” 

 

She’d never actually expected for it to happen.

  
  


Em screams out loud as another shockwave ripples through her. She arcs her back and grips the metal gurney beneath her. It  _ hurts,  _ more than anything she’s ever felt, but it feels fantastic too. 

 

The intersection of pleasure and pain - they’re too similar, sometimes.

 

“What happened to her?” One of the paramedics above her asks, but she can barely focus on his face.

 

She wants - too much. Anything and everything. She wants to pull Aitch down from above her and tear off his clothes, she wants to be touched and fucked and satisfied. She  _ wants  _ more than she could ever give. She strains against her bonds, wants to touch herself, but she can’t make her hands move far enough. 

 

“Dosed with Sycoltic Blue.” Aitch says, voice tense. “I got - just a little bit too. I’m fine. Can you treat it?”

 

“There’s no medical treatment for that aphrodisiac, Agent H. Only...” The paramedic pauses, “She’ll need a partner.”

 

Em screams again, and shudders limply, falling back to the surface of the gurney again. Her muscles spasm, but she can’t quite- it’s not good enough.

 

She needs to be touched. She needs to  _ feel.  _

 

She pants, chest heaving, and writhes. Sweat slicks the hollow in her back and down her wrists. “It’s too hot.” She can’t reach to fan herself. “Too hot. Help me.”

 

“It’s okay. You’re going to be fine.” Aitch says, and rests a wet cloth on her forehead. “Just ride it out, Em.”

 

The moisture hurts in another way. It’s damp, and cool, and jarring to her heated body. She shudders, and sweats, and Aitch smoothes the cloth over her face.

 

It barely helps. 

 

She wants to beg. She needs to. But she can’t. Not yet. “Get out of here.” She hisses, through clenched teeth. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

 

“I’ve been through it too, Em.”

 

“ _ No. _ ” She gasps, because it doesn’t matter if he’s been through it before. She knows he won’t use it against her, but she can’t just- “Go! Please.”

 

And he does.

 

“Your nominated support-” The paramedic starts, filling up a needle from a vial, but she can hardly care about what he’s saying, “Are you sure that you-”

 

“Yes!” She groans, even though she barely remembers who she wrote down on the thing in the first place. It doesn’t matter. All she wants is some  _ relief.  _ “Yes. Please. Yes. Just  _ help  _ me,” and she squeezes her eyes shut as she feels a prick in her neck, and when she reopens them, he’s gone.

 

Em sits up. The room is different now, but her wrists are still bound. The heat… it’s not better, but it’s not worse. She can breathe, almost.

 

The desire is still there, but malleable. She can breathe through it. It tenses her calves, up her thighs, and hovers in the pit of her stomach. 

 

There’s heat in her mouth. It’s dry, a little painful. She swallows, and nothing changes. “Hello?” She yells, voice hoarse, “Can anyone hear me-”

 

And then the door slides open and Oh walks in, rolling up her sleeves. She doesn’t look up.

 

Em bucks back on the gurney, pain and pleasure and  _ pain  _ suddenly pounding through her body. “O?” She gasps. 

 

“Molly?” And the thing is, Oh seems  _ surprised.  _ She halts in her tracks, just for a moment, “I didn’t catch the designation, I just- habit- it’s just- it’s you.”

 

“Sorry, for all this, I just- it was a joke. The form. Really, I’m just fine-” And Em cries out and arcs back in her seat, ties pulling at her wrists and it hurts, it hurts so much. She bites her lip, tears springing to her eyes.

 

She’s more aroused than she’s ever been, and she- she doesn’t want to be. Not like this. 

 

It feels  _ coercive.  _ Even in her painful, pleasurable stupor, it doesn’t feel right to ask. “I can’t-” She hisses, through her teeth, and tries to ignore the tears rolling down her face. “I can’t put you into this-”

 

“Em. Listen to me.” Oh grips her by the wrists, forces her to look up through the haze in her head. “I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t want to be. I can help you through this. Do you want me to?”

 

And somehow - just somehow - that makes it a little bit better.

 

“Yes.” Em gasps and just… gives in.

 

Oh lets go of her wrists, and Em sags back to the gurney, utterly exhausted from the fighting, but somehow still ready to go.  Every one of her nerve endings is on fire, tightening her thighs, her calves. She needs to be touched. She needs to be. 

 

"Please," She says, not even really sure what she's asking for. A relief from the pain, yes, but something more? 

 

She can't even think about what it'll be like to look her boss in the eye after all this is over. 

 

"Relax." Oh says, and it's not helpful at all. She reaches down and undoes Em's restraints. 

 

Any sliver of control Em had is gone as soon as she can move again. Her blood surges up, and before she can even stop it, she’s moving, pushing herself off the table and  _ on  _ Oh, a wild mess of tangled hair and flailing limbs.

 

It’s not graceful. It’s hardly even sexy. But it does the job. 

 

Oh kisses like she works. Decisive, in-charge, controlling in the best way. It feels good to be so close, after so much waiting. The fire in Em’s veins makes her want so much more that she can give.

 

She bites off a moan and licks her way into Oh’s mouth.

 

The older woman pushes her against the gurney and pulls Em’s jeans to her knees before she even has a moment to think. It’s too hot, too good not to arch into the feeling of soft skin against hers, the want of so many weeks finally coming true. 

 

Oh barely has a hand on her clit, over her panties - basic, standard issue Agency black - when Em’s coming, biting back a startled cry as she shakes and writhes and falls back against the gurney. 

 

The heady, pounding rubatosis in her brain is a shock after so much  _ want.  _

 

It snaps her out of it, all too suddenly, and she fumbles with her jeans, pulling them on as best she can. “Shit. O, I’m sorry for my behaviour. I shouldn’t have-”

 

“You’re not done. The poison won’t be out of your system yet.” Oh interrupts, looking over Em strangely, in a way that makes her feel a little too known. 

 

It’s almost a delight to see her look so… dishevelled. Oh is a woman of poise, and prestige, and she doesn’t get rattled. Em did that.

 

The thought is… delicious. She wants more. She wants to feel more, see more. 

 

She wants… just so much more. The undercurrent of heat in her blood seems to flare up at the thought. “How much longer? How long till it… breaks?”

 

“Could be minutes, could be hours.” Oh says, absentmindedly, still staring at Em in a way that’s almost a little too much.

 

Em still doesn’t get it. “Why- why would you do this for me? For anyone?”

 

“Contrary to the media’s portrayal of women my age, Molly, I still like sex.” Oh smiles, softly, far too genuinely than the situation warrants. “And you are beautiful.”

 

“Don’t…” Molly huffs, through her teeth. “Don’t… be nice to me. Not when I’m like this. I mean, I don’t even know how I’ll be able to look you in the eye after we leave this place.”

 

She starts to pull her jeans on properly, but the feeling of Oh’s hands on her stop her in her tracks. People don’t… say that kind of thing about her.  _ Especially  _ people like Oh. 

 

“You are a stunning woman, and above all else, a very talented agent.” Oh says, and grips her by the wrists again. 

 

It’s a little tighter this time, and Em knows there’s power under it all. 

 

But somehow, she feels the praise this time around. And she likes it. The heat inside her rises, just a little, making itself known again. She’s not free of the poison, after all. “Oh, I don’t know if we-”

 

“Did I say we were finished?”

 

And this time, Oh’s words are like a jolt to the gut.

 

(But in a very good way.)

  
  
  


It’s surprisingly un-weird when she gets her next mission.

 

Oh just smiles at her in a knowing way, and maybe, just maybe, aphrodisiacs aren’t that bad after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> NO SHAME
> 
> hit me up on the [ tumblr ](http://eph-em-era.tumblr.com) with prompts


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